


Wildflower

by partialresonance



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Fuck Or Die, Gingerpilot, Gingerpilot Week 2020, Honeymoon, Husbands, Literally pollen, M/M, Sex Pollen, Trope-typical dubcon, Worldbuilding brought to you by Wookiepedia, Yavin 4, but very soft, slight crack, the actual sex is very vanilla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25196539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partialresonance/pseuds/partialresonance
Summary: Written for Gingerpilot Week 2020 Day 1: HomeworldPoe takes Armitage camping on Yavin 4 for their honeymoon. Everything is going great until they find out that people from Armitage’s homeworld have a…unique…reaction to the pollen of a certain flower.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 24
Kudos: 72
Collections: Gingerpilot Week 2020





	Wildflower

“Thanks for the lift, dad.” Poe gives his father an enthusiastic embrace, then shoulders his pack and steps back to stand beside his husband. Kes grins and pats Armitage on the shoulder.

“You’ll take care of him, right Armitage?” He winks. Poe rolls his eyes.

“Of course,” Armitage says stiffly. He still gives Kes a suspicious look every time the man goes to touch him, though he doesn’t flinch anymore. Poe is more than happy with the progress. It’ll only get better with time; maybe in a couple of years his husband will actually willingly hug his father-in-law! Kes, like Poe, is a hugger.

“You two have everything you need?”

“ _Yes_ , dad.” Poe fights the urge to roll his eyes again; thirty-four years old and his dad is still babying him. “Believe me, Armie is a planner. We have enough supplies to move out here permanently. And don’t worry, I’ve got the emergency comm.”

“Use it if you need it.” Kes lifts a finger and levels a firm gaze at his son. “Don’t be too proud to call for help. There’s a lot of wildlife out here, and the weather can turn nasty in a pinch. I’ll keep an ear out for your signal.”

“We’ll be fine!” Poe puts his hands on Kes’s shoulders and steers him back to the shuttle. Poe and Armitage have blasters on their hips to deal with any wildlife they might encounter, and enough emergency medical supplies to outfit a battalion. Still, Poe is worried that at any moment Armitage will pull the plug on the whole honeymoon camping trip. Poe had had to twist his arm to get him to agree to it in the first place, even though he knows Armitage will love it once they have their tent pitched under the stars. If he can ever get rid of his dad.

“Take lots of pictures!” Kes calls from the shuttle ramp, and Poe nods and waves, plastering an insincere smile over his annoyance. Finally, Kes goes to the cockpit and the shuttle lifts off, its wake sending waves through the tall grass and wildflowers covering the hillside.

“Your father seems concerned,” Armitage says as they begin making their way further into the country.

“He’s overprotective. Has been ever since my mom died and I started lying about my age to enter league races.”

“You did what? Well no wonder he’s worried. I’ll have to keep my eye on you, won’t I?”

“Sure will.” Poe darts closer to give Armitage a quick peck on the cheek. Soon they crest the hill and Poe stops them for a moment to take in the vista, his arm slung around Armitage’s waist. The sky is a deep blue fluffed with lazy white clouds and dominated by the ghostly swirls of Yavin. The gas giant hangs heavy above them, a swollen specter of its nightly brilliance. Beyond these grass-swept hills an old Massassi forest lurks in purple shadow that seems to mouth at the daylight around it, not quite devouring the light but making it go soft and fuzzy at the edges. The forest is bursting with flora; Poe can make out the climbing ferns wrapped around the trees, spreads of fungi among the lifted roots, and the telltale twinkling lights of bioluminescent orchids winking at them from the perpetual twilight beneath the canopy.

“We’re going in there?” Armitage follows Poe’s gaze, looking dubiously at the forest. Poe squeezes his hand.

“Just a little ways in. There’s a trail that takes you to a clearing, it’s a nice little camping spot. The forest is beautiful at night and you can see the stars and Yavin—it’ll be great.”

“Alright.” Armitage rubs the side of his nose and wrinkles it like he’s about to sneeze. He doesn’t seem thrilled by any of it yet but Poe doesn’t let that dampen his spirits. He cups Armitage’s jaw in a soft grip and smiles as his husband’s eyelids flutter. That brief moment of vulnerability is the staunchest declaration of Armitage’s trust in him. Poe leans up and places a chaste kiss against his lips.

“Thanks for doing this, Armie. I promise, you’ll love it.”

“We’ll see.” Armitage takes the bite out of his words by squeezing Poe’s arm at the elbow.

The trek down to the forest is pleasant—at least, to Poe it is, and he doesn’t think Armitage minds the silence or the natural world pressing in around them. He keeps looking around curiously with his clinical gaze, and even once stops to bend down and examine a spray of white wildflowers up close. He plucks one of the tiny blossoms from its stem and rolls the petals between his thumb and forefinger, humming in thought. As he straightens, Poe notices that the tip of his nose is a bit red, but figures that Armitage just needs to apply another layer of sunblock.

As they come to the edge of the forest and pass by the first Massassi tree, Armitage sneezes.

“These trees are incredible,” he says, sniffing and laying a tentative hand on the purple bark. “They’re absolutely massive.”

“It takes centuries for them to grow this big.” Poe finds the trail and leads them deeper into the forest. He stays ahead of Armitage, hoping his husband doesn’t notice the sound of stintarils skittering away at their approach. They reach the clearing with plenty of time to set up camp before nightfall.

Poe first thinks that something might be wrong when Armitage sneezes thrice in a row.

“Just a slight allergic reaction,” he reassures Poe. He gestures to the surrounding trees, their purple-barked trunks dotted with bright bluish-white orchids that have already started to glow in the twilight. “Probably these orchids. Their bioluminescence is fascinating, though.” He gives Poe an encouraging little smile just before another small sneezing fit overtakes him.

“Well, here.” Poe spreads out a blanket in the soft teal grass and bids Armitage to sit while Poe finishes setting up camp. He erects their tent and drapes the inside with battery-powered string lights. He uses a small portable stovetop to boil water for their meal—a cup of dehydrated noodles with a mild sauce, and some of Armitage’s favorite tea. Poe brings the simple meal to his husband just as the light fades to a bronze-and-mauve glow and the deep, croaking calls of woolamanders start to fill the air.

Armitage leans against Poe as they eat. Overhead, the break in the canopy shows a dark swathe of velvet night sky strewn with stars and the bold curve of Yavin, brighter than any moon. In the clarity of night Yavin’s orange and purple swirls shine in stunning detail. Poe points out a stream of gaseous clouds coalescing around a swollen eye, like a dark bruise on the planet’s atmosphere, and tells Armitage that it’s a storm that has raged on the gas planet for longer than the Jedi have existed, since before the Massassi people built their temples on this moon.

Poe feels rather pleased with himself. The night is perfect—the air warm and dry, the forest beautiful around them, and Armitage tucked against his side with a look of near-rapture on his face. He sets aside his tea and burrows his face into Poe’s neck, inhaling deeply as he threads his arms around Poe’s waist.

“So,” Poe says, grinning, unable to resist fishing for a compliment, “Did I do good?”

“Oh, Poe.” Armitage moves his hands over Poe’s chest and strokes down his back, and Poe’s skin tingles at the sensation. “You did splendidly, my love. I don’t deserve the half of it.” His eyes are closed as he starts kissing the side of Poe’s neck. Poe is delighted at this forwardness, which is so unlike Armitage.

“You deserve everything I can give you and more.” Poe puts his own dishes aside and turns towards Armitage, who is moving almost desperately against him now, squirming his way into Poe’s lap. The kisses he lays on Poe’s neck are like cool little stepping stones that light his skin up when the warm breeze ghosts over them. Armitage hooks his legs around Poe and then surges up to kiss him, his hand twisting in Poe’s curls at the back of his head and pulling.

“Mmph!” Poe puts his hands on Armitage’s shoulders and pushes gently. “Easy, babe,” he chuckles, “you’re going a little fast for me there.”

“Oh.” Armitage softens his grip in Poe’s hair and blinks heavily at him. He’s breathing hard, his pupils huge, making his eyes shine darkly in the soft ambient light around their camp. “Yes. I’m sorry.” He hovers over Poe, as if waiting for an indication of what to do next. “You’re just…” He trails a hand down the side of Poe’s face and along his jaw, and swallows. “You’re very beautiful in this light.”

“Just in this light, huh?” Poe lifts an eyebrow and Armitage leans down and kisses it.

“No. Always.” He wraps his arms around Poe and Poe does the same. For a moment they just breathe together, and Poe thinks this is the sort of happiness that could break a person apart. He feels too full of it, this glowing sensation, as if he could light up like the fireflies that drift around the camp with their bright green-yellow glow.

Armitage shifts against him, and then sneezes mightily over Poe’s shoulder. Poe chuckles, stroking his back, and feels Armitage shudder beneath his touch.

“Do you feel okay?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” He sounds a bit like he’s trying to convince himself. He’s breathing hard again, but it doesn’t sound labored, just quick. Poe can feel his heartbeat thrumming against his own chest. Armitage’s hands fist in the back of Poe’s shirt and his hips give a fitful little jerk. He suddenly takes Poe’s earlobe into his mouth, tugging it gently with his teeth. Poe gasps and clutches at him; that’s one of his _spots_ and Armie knows it well.

“Babe, um,” Poe struggles to think. “Tent?”

“Yes,” Armitage breathes into his ear, sending shivers down Poe’s spine. “Yes, I think so. Yes.”

It takes him a moment to unwind from around Poe, and he doesn’t let himself lose contact entirely as they move into the tent.

He sneezes again, and when he crouches down to pass through the opening he loses his balance and stumbles to his knees.

“Hugs!” Poe leans down, putting his hands on Armitage’s shoulders as he shifts around to sit with his legs stretched in front of him. “Babe, are you sure you’re alright?” Poe lets his hands drift up to Armitage’s neck, and he frowns, thinking he feels hot.

“I don’t know. Poe, I think—something is—” Armitage breaks off to sneeze again, then sways back against the side of the tent. His face is flushed, eyes hooded, and he’s breathing irregularly, a bit harshly. “Something is wrong. It doesn’t—doesn’t feel like just allergies. Don’t you have that guide your father gave you?”

“Oh, yeah.” Poe scrambles to take it out of the pack. It’s a small datapad-like device, non-networked and loaded with an extensive library of topics ranging from wildlife to medical emergencies to the best way to cook smores on an electric stovetop. He types in “sneezing”, “fever”, “allergies”, and then narrows the results to their location. “I dunno, Tage, it just says that most Yavin natives are immune to these sorts of allergies. I guess it could be the orchids?”

Armitage has crossed his arms over his chest and angled a bit away from Poe. When Poe reaches to touch the side of his arm he flinches violently away.

“Don’t—!” He sneezes and gives a full-body shudder. “Don’t touch me, I—I feel very strange.”

“We should call for help.” Poe is done with this—his idea of a perfect honeymoon isn’t worth risking Armitage’s health, and his husband’s odd behavior is starting to scare him.

“No!” Armitage cries. He grabs Poe’s arm to keep him from reaching for the emergency comm. “No, I don’t want anyone else here, please.” He almost seems to be fighting with himself as he clutches at Poe, pushing him away but refusing to let go entirely.

“Armie, you’re scaring me.”

“Just—can you look up, if there’s anything about the orchids and—and non-natives, maybe Arkanisians specifically? Please, Poe.”

“Fine,” Poe says, pulling up the search, “But I really think we should pack up and—oh, wait, there’s actually an entry here.” He hadn’t expected to find anything about Arkanis natives in his Yavin nature guide but there it is—a warning about the unique reaction people from Armitage’s homeworld have to the orchids surrounding their campsite.

It’s an allergy, causing sneezing, a very moderate fever, and distress due to…

Oh.

_Oh._

Well, that would explain a few things.

“Uh, Armie?” Poe looks up from the datapad. Armitage’s eyes are narrowed, his expression wary. “Are you feeling any sort of, um…”

It’s ridiculous. Poe can’t even say it. He turns the datapad around and points to the part where it says that Arkanis natives have a _hormonal_ response to the orchid pollen. Alarmingly, the reaction can get quite out of hand without taking measures to combat it, causing an escalating fever and even lethal respiratory distress.

“That’s,” Armitage pauses, swallows. “I can’t be reading that correctly.” Then he gasps and curls in on himself again, eking out a tiny, involuntary, “ _Poe_.”

“Babe.” Poe inches closer, threading an arm around Armitage’s back, and his husband groans before allowing himself to be gathered into Poe’s arms. “You seem like you’re in pain.”

“No, it’s just—it’s very—intense.” He shifts against Poe, fidgeting with his clothes. “Poe, I can’t let anyone else see me like this, I assure you I would quite literally rather die.”

Poe bites his lip and holds Armitage against him with one hand while the other scrolls frantically on the datapad. There are a few case studies of people who have run into this problem—Poe can’t believe he’s never heard of it before—and all of them tell the same story. Either the sufferer gets the stimulation they need, or they die in a matter of hours.

Poe puts down the datapad, thinking hard. He can feel Armitage shifting against him, and automatically he lifts a hand and runs it through Armitage’s hair like he’s done a thousand times before. This time, the response is instantaneous, and dramatic: Armitage gasps and shudders, plastering himself against Poe and twitching his hips.

“Kriff! No, just, don’t move, don’t—” Armitage squeezes his eyes shut, looking pained. He’s panting, his head hanging between his hunched shoulders. “I’m sorry, Poe, I didn’t mean to, I swear.” He squirms uncomfortably, and Poe can’t help but glance down at his lap where a dark, wet patch has appeared in the front of his trousers.

“Oh, baby,” Poe croons. “I know you didn’t mean to. It’s okay.” Poe is embarrassed to realize that he’s a little hard. With his husband shifting desperately against him, it’s hard not to find it arousing, though Poe chides himself for being depraved because Armitage is clearly distressed by the whole thing.

“Poe,” Armitage says through clenched teeth. “I want you so badly right now. You have no idea.” His hands make fitful little fists in Poe’s shirt, opening and closing around the fabric. “Being this close to you is—is torture, but I can’t—I need—”

He’s breathing hard again, making a pained little whining noise in the back of his throat as he noses along Poe’s jaw, just barely holding himself back from doing more. Poe shivers. It’s always pleasant having Armitage in his arms, but the desperation in his voice and the way he squirms, halfway in Poe’s lap by now, is incredibly arousing.

“I mean,” Poe swallows, petting Armitage’s shoulder, “I was planning on, yaknow—romancing you a little, but I do have our stuff, we could—if you need it—”

“I don’t want to force you!” Armitage lets his head fall to Poe’s shoulder. “This isn’t fair. I can’t think.” His skin is hot—Poe can feel it through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Believe me babe, you wouldn’t be forcing me. I’m more worried about _you_.”

“Well stop it!” Armitage grabs the front of Poe’s shirt and yanks him down for a bruising kiss. He moans against Poe’s mouth, then gasps and releases him, sitting back and looking horrified. “I—I didn’t meant to do that. Poe. I’m going out of my mind.”

“Easy, Tage.” Poe smiles as reassuringly as he can and strokes Armitage’s cheek, the other man’s eyes immediately falling shut at the contact. Armitage bites his lower lip to stifle another moan. “Everything’s okay. I love you, you’re my husband, and we’re going to figure this out, alright?”

“Poe, please.” Armitage is trembling, his hands curled into tight fists. “I need it, I need you, I can’t wait any longer, please Poe, please—”

Poe kisses him. Armitage immediately wraps his arms around Poe’s neck, crushing their bodies together and shuddering, every nerve alight, overly-sensitive and almost painfully hard. Poe’s brain goes offline briefly when Armitage’s tongue slides along his; he moans and his hand falls to palm at Armitage through his pants.

“Oh!” Armitage throws his head back, gasping at the ceiling of the tent. “Yes, oh please.” His desperation doesn’t lessen any, but Poe can almost feel the relief flooding through him, and his rapid breathing returns to something approaching a normal rate. Poe rolls the heel of his hand against his erection and Armitage moans, canting his hips, chasing the sensation. His body is pliant beneath Poe’s hands, and Poe lays him out carefully under the soft glow of the string lights and presses down on top of him.

Armitage rolls his hips as he dives his tongue into Poe’s mouth. Again, and again, each time pressing a little longer as the sensation builds between them, until Poe is lost to their rhythm. He runs his hands down Armitage’s sides, squeezing that tapered waist he’s so fond of. Armitage’s hands slip down his back, then over his ass, gripping him hard enough to bruise, pulling him down while he presses up so tight that Poe can barely move. Their hips are locked together and Poe moans into Armitage’s mouth, all of it so much, so _good._

“Love you, baby,” Poe says huskily, eyes shut, moving from Armitage’s mouth to kiss over his chin and beneath his jaw. “Love you so, so much—how do you feel?”

Armitage tilts his head to the side, giving Poe better access to his neck. His mouth is open, lips curled up into the hint of a smile.

“It’s good, Poe,” he says dreamily. “It feels so good. Please don’t stop now.”

“Mmm, no way.” Poe opens his mouth and slides his teeth down Armitage’s neck, and he gasps loudly, rocking up against Poe.

“Oh, stars! More of that, please.”

Poe draws the sensitive skin between his teeth and Armitage cries out. He starts tearing at Poe’s shirt.

“Off, please, I need…”

Poe sits up and removes his shirt, grinning at the hungry look Armitage gives him. He brushes his thumb over the mark he left and Armitage grabs his wrist, pulling the thumb to his mouth and closing his lips over it with a satisfied hum. Poe’s heart thunders in his chest and his dick gives a little twitch.

“Baby, how do you want it?” The rest of his hand cups Armitage’s jaw as he runs his tongue over Poe’s thumb. “Babe?” With a little groan, Armitage lets Poe slip his thumb out of his mouth so he can answer.

“You. Inside me. _Now.”_

The next moments are a flurry of tearing at each other’s clothes until both are naked. Poe coats a finger with lube and teases at Armitage’s hole, running his finger over the sensitive rim while Armitage’s head rolls back and forth. His cock is red and hard and leaking against his stomach by the time Poe presses a finger in, and Armitage sobs in relief.

“Yes, that’s just what I need, thank you, yes.” As Poe works him open Armitage flings his arm over his eyes, back arching as if the pleasure is threatening to split him apart. When he has two fingers inside of the tight heat Poe surges up to take Armitage’s nipple into his mouth, rolling it gently between his teeth. Armitage shudders and makes incoherent little sounds behind the fist now pressed to his mouth. He grabs Poe’s shoulder, digging his fingers in, and Poe hisses at the bite of his fingernails.

“That’s enough, I need you, please.” Armitage’s voice is broken, his hair in disarray and every inch of his delicate ivory skin flushed pink. Poe coats himself in lube, lines up, and enters him gently, as slowly as he can when Armitage is squirming and pressing himself down on Poe’s cock. Poe’s arms are shaking as Armitage takes him in, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. It feels good, _too_ good, and he has to hold himself still for a moment as the sensation threatens to overwhelm him.

At Armitage’s frantic beckoning he starts to move, slowly at first, the two of them building a rhythm together as they undulate against each other. Armitage is incoherent, flinging his head back and mewling as he scrabbles at Poe’s back. Poe kisses his chest and neck, every bit of skin he can reach. He avoids Armitage’s aching, swollen erection for now, not wanting him to come just yet.

Suddenly, pleasure grips tightly at Poe’s stomach and he snaps his hips forward, driving into Armitage and knocking a surprised, pleased yelp from him. Armitage has threaded his hand in his own hair, pulling on it as Poe surges into him, his cock brushing against the sweet spot deep inside of him. With each thrust Armitage shouts, loud and uncaring at the height of his pleasure, and Poe feels the crescendo building inside of him, a storm of sensation coalescing to a bright point.

“Babe, I’m close,” he manages, and Armitage nods frantically, searching out Poe’s hand. He takes two of Poe’s fingers in his mouth and sucks earnestly, eyes rolling back and then fluttering shut. He takes his own erection in hand and begins to stroke himself in time to Poe’s thrusts. Poe drives deep into Armitage and then pauses, pushing in deeper and deeper without drawing out, and Armitage whines, squirming back and forth, his entire body taut, drawn tight with pleasure. Armitage runs a thumb over the head of his cock and then he comes, that taut pressure snapping free and setting him loose. He writhes on Poe’s cock, running his tongue over the fingers in his mouth, gasping and moaning as each shock of pleasure wracks his body.

Poe thrusts into him once, twice, bumping against that spot again and driving further moans from Armitage’s lips before he comes as well, the tight coil of pleasure in his belly releasing as he pumps into Armitage. A roaring in his ears drowns out the sound of his own moans, his vision greying over as he gives himself up to his orgasm.

Finally, panting, he collapses on top of Armitage, boneless and damp with sweat. Armitage’s come is hot and slick between their stomachs and as he removes his hand from Armitage’s mouth he accidentally smears saliva across his lips and chin. In apology, Poe climbs up to kiss him, and Armitage groans happily as he opens for Poe again. They take each other in, tongues sliding lazily against each other, kissing for so long that the sweat and come starts to dry. Poe groans.

“Wish we had a shower out here,” he murmurs.

“This was all your idea, if you’ll recall.” Armitage’s voice is breathy and relaxed. “Taking me from civilization, out to these barbarian woods where the flowers drove me out of my mind with lust for you.” He strokes Poe’s jaw, gaze turning fond. “As if I needed any more encouragement.”

“You sound better.” Poe is grinning, silently congratulating himself. “How do you feel?”

“Perfect. Warm. In love with you.” He threads his fingers through Poe’s. “Sticky.”

“Same.” Poe smiles. He relaxes again, tucking his head under Armitage’s chin. “I’ll clean us up, just give me a minute.” He feels Armitage running a hand through his curls as his eyes flutter shut. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep but he does, and Armitage does as well. Poe wakes first and watches his husband sleep, reveling in his soft, peaceful expression.

He gets up and retrieves a pack of wipes, cleaning himself off first to give his husband that much more time to sleep. Then he gently wipes Armitage’s stomach, coaxing him to a sleepy wakefulness. Armitage lets him clean everywhere else, too, humming in self-satisfaction and curling onto his side when Poe is finished. Poe pulls the blanket over the both of them as he scoops Armitage against his chest, an arm wrapped possessively around his waist. He kisses Armitage’s back, between his shoulder blades, and then the two drift off again.

Morning dawns, the air chill and dew-heavy and awash in grey light. Everything feels clean and new, and although Armitage has shown no more symptoms they decide to pack up and leave early, just in case. Poe feels chagrined in the light of a new day; he’d led his husband into danger, and he’d profited from it. But Armitage takes his hand and leans in to plant a kiss on his temple.

“I wouldn’t change a thing, love.” Then he gives Poe’s cheek a brisk pat, bordering on a slap. “Though if you ever speak of this again, I’ll kill you.”

“Sounds fair.”


End file.
